In Your Eyes I Saw Hell
by SnowBunnyLove
Summary: Several months after the Bahaumet summoning in the city, Vincent struggles to find a place for himself in this world. Meanwhile Tifa struggles to move on with her life after giving up on Cloud, and dealing with her feelings for a certain former teamate.
1. Love Fool

Rating – M

Pairing – Vincent x Tifa

Timeline – Months after AC, but has nothing to do with Dirge, not yet anyway.

Disclaimer – I can only wish to be reborn with that kind of creative genius, so obviously these characters are not mine, nor are the original storylines, plots, places, or random items scattered throughout the world that are somehow better than the ones you buy in the shops. All I own is this very cathartic piece of my soul.

Author's Notes – This is my first FFVII story so please tell me if you like it, in other words, review it. Since I really got into the game and the fandom, I've read a lot of fan fiction, and I've felt that people portray Vincent as this anti-social vampire who doesn't do anything but be creepy without giving any explanation for why he acts the way he does, and Tifa as an anime Hooters girl. So I got up enough courage to actually write out my idea.

Chapter 1: Love Fool

"I'm in love with an older man."

The statement hung heavily in the air between the only occupants of the 7th Heaven bar in the new city of Edge, just outside of the ruined Midgar.

"Um…Tifa, Cloud's the same age as you." The petite Wutainian girl was genuinely confused. While she had never truly been close with the bar owner, she knew well enough that her companion had been pining for Cloud for at least a decade, since they were young.

Adjusting her perch on the barstool, Tifa fiddled with the ends of her long brown hair. She hadn't meant to tell Yuffie initially, but she didn't really have any close female friends that would understand the things she needed to talk about. Actually, this was the first time she'd even said that phrase as anything more than a whisper.

It was kind of scary.

"It's not Cloud Yuffie. I've finally come to the conclusion that he's so caught up in his own issues that there's no room in his mind, let alone his heart for me. Part of me will always love him, I can't help that, but I'm not in love with him anymore."

The young ninja quickly ran through the list of people she knew Tifa was closely acquainted with, and came up with a very short list. Ever since the Meteor incident and then the clones incident it had been increasingly difficult to talk to normal people without them having that "I'm talking to a celebrity" look. They all lead very quiet lives, but when you save the world twice it tended to give you some notoriety.

"Well, it's not Reeve, 'cause he's married to the job. It better not be Cid, that'd be gross. He's all bad temper and ashtray mouth. I'd rather kiss a Tonberry." Yuffie proclaimed with a grimace, starting at the top of her list of people she'd pray to Leviathan that Tifa never hooked up with.

"No, not Cid." While Tifa liked the blonde pilot as a friend, there couldn't be anything more between them. Cid was too much of a man's man for her. She liked the strong yet subtle type.

"Okay, that's good." Yuffie continued with only the barest of pauses. How she could do it had never been explained. "Not Barrett is it? Double hope not on that one, Elena would kick his ass all the way to Gongaga otherwise. Speaking of Turks though. That baldy Rude is older than you. But he's quieter than Vincent, so that would be awkward. Oh, an that Reno guy is a major hottie, yo. Still pissed about that scar he gave me, but I think I can get some payback. Wonder how he feels about bondage."

There was nothing Tifa could do except let the dark haired girl talk herself out. Though she tried valiantly to ignore the ramblings, especially when Yuffie began to speculate about how much gil Rufus Shinra kept in his pants pockets, and the rapturous shiver that overtook her as she planned to pick his pockets was nauseating.

Tifa made a mental note to warn Tseng next time he came into the bar.

"Oh come on Tifa, spill it."

The brown-eyed girl was jerked out of her thoughts and brought back to the original subject.

"You can't keep me in the dark you know."

"What would you say if I told you that it was Vincent?" Tifa asked in all honesty.

The loud, raucous laughter she received was answer enough, and while it hurt, it was understandable.

Minutes later, when Yuffie's sides ached fiercely, and she had calmed down enough to talk she addressed her friend.

"I never knew you such a joker. You and Vincent? You'd have to hit him with a sledgehammer to even get his attention. But seriously Tif, you wanna get away from guys with problems, not go run after a guy with the most. Becides," Yuffie said putting her hand on Tifa's shoulder as she got up to leave, "it's not like Vincent is even interested in being involved with the human race, let alone one person. Don't go looking for heartache. I'll see you later when the bar opens."

Tifa watched her companion leave and knew deep down that the girl was right.

But that couldn't stop her heart from loving the reclusive man. Letting out a mournful sigh, the bar owner resolved that she would at least make an attempt to engage Vincent in life.

"Guess I'm just destined for heartache and loneliness."

And with that, she finally got around to finishing the morning order that she'd started two hours earlier.


	2. Anniversary of Fate

Chapter 2: Anniversary of Fate

One of these days he wasn't going to get out of bed.

One of these days he was going to say nuts to being dependable, when nobody even cared if he showed up.

Or breathed.

Even though it wasn't going to be this day in particular, though given what today marked it should have been. Feeling almost drugged with resignation, sleep fogged ruby eyes opened and began to focus on the world that loathed him.

Granted he loathed it right back, but that's another story for a different time.

For now, Vincent Valentine reluctantly tossed the blankets towards the end of the bed, and rose with all the grace his stiff and scarred body could muster.

The delivery people had just dropped off his new King sized mattress the day before and he would have rather had a guilty indulgence and lay sprawled out in luxury, instead of rising and heading to the shower.

He couldn't help but allow his thoughts to wander to how he'd come to this situation, as he walked across the hall, dark pajama bottoms riding low on his almost emaciated hips. His gaze strayed back to the bed before forcefully reminding himself that he'd slept a lifetime already and that he had things to do.

Although, the mattress was infinitely easier on his back than the hard ground, and less confining than the coffin, it just felt weird to have room to move around. Not that he did much of that anyway, but it was still going to take some getting used to. There was also the fact that he hadn't had a bed, or any possessions in several decades. Too much change too quickly; it was throwing him off balance. But change, like a large bed was good.

Small luxuries were rare in this age of rebuilding, but he'd decided he deserved a few. And it wasn't like he couldn't afford them either.

When Reeve first took over the remnants of Shinra, Inc. he'd gone though every file from every department. And in his perusal he'd discovered that through some odd quirk by Hojo, Vincent had only been declared MIA. Probably had to do with the amount of paperwork involved when reporting a Turk KIA. He'd filled out too much of it in his tenure.

Turks went MIA quite often, but accounting kept paying until a termination notice came in, or checks didn't get picked up for six months.

The automatic funds transfer that the company had thought to cure the paper trail and save time was now his best friend.

Thirty years of salary, in an interest bearing account, meant he was now a gillionaire.

A lot of good that did him though, he thought as he turned the bathroom light on, casting the room into harsh relief.

Sure, it had helped him purchase a nice, yet empty house in Edge, a comfortable new mattress, and a massaging showerhead, but he still got up for work every morning out of a newly forced habit, and had nothing more to show for it than the dark circles under his eyes and more holes in his dark red cloak. He lived a tired and lonely existence.

Twisting the knobs of the shower, he waited for the water to warm to the right temperature. Untying the string holding his pajamas up, he let the material slide down to pool at his feet. Vincent caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. The blank expression on his face belied the inner turmoil simmering within. Haunted, that was what Yuffie had confided to Tifa, that was how others saw him. Not far from the truth in fact, but still painful to hear.

He hadn't even realized how he'd come to depend on human company until the members of AVALANCHE had gone their separate ways for the second time.

He shouldn't have missed them at all. They never bothered to get to know him; hell they never even bothered to talk to him. He stood within a circle of friends, yet didn't. The only time anyone acknowledged him was if they needed something done, or if he had some idea to impart.

They always listened to his ideas, amazingly enough. Then let Cloud take the credit for them. Vincent had no ego to stroke, no sense of self-importance, so they thought. He supposed that it made it easier to accept that as long as the idea worked he didn't care who got credit for coming up with it.

A self-centered bunch, the lot of them, but he still found himself missing their presence. Even Barret and Yuffie arguing, he'd take it right about now.

The only other outcast of the group had been accepted eventually, leaving Vincent alone on the outside. He couldn't hold it against Reeve though; he'd chosen a rather cutesy alternate form that allowed for easy acceptance. Vincent didn't have that going for him though. Not unless you thought sharp horns, leathery wings, and chainsaws were cute.

He snorted to himself in derision as he stepped into the hot spray of water. He was ugly and unworthy. He'd come to terms with that already.

Reeve, in and out of Cait Sith's body, had made it a point to at least attempt to befriend him. The gesture was accepted with embarrassing speed on his part. It sicked him how fast he'd become attached to Reeve, but as soon as Vincent's usefulness had ended, so had their acquaintance, so he thought.

He still held some affection for the executive, but he knew deep in his heart that the only reason he had been offered a job with his new company was because the old company had screwed him over, they felt sorry for him, and not because of any one particular talent he possessed, or even friendship.

Not that he could really blame Reeve, it was always in one's best interest to know exactly where the monsters were.

And that's exactly what he was. No normal human transformed into demons of destruction. The slashing, tearing claws, gore drenched horns, the awful rev of mechanical death. He had no control of what happened, but that did not mean he didn't know what happened while the others were in control. The visions tormented him with their savagery. Pleas for mercy and screams of the dying echoing in his ears.

The ex-Turk's stomach clenched in spasms of agony as guilt at what he'd done in those forms tore through him, leaving him gasping for air.

The therapist that had first been assigned to him told him he was taking on guilt that didn't belong to him, and that he should put that blame on the shoulders of the old regime in general and Hojo in specific.

He hadn't gone back since that initial visit. Just another lab coat trying to fuck with his head. He knew exactly where the blame lay, and it couldn't be passed on like vegetables at dinner.

While it was technically required that he see a therapist in order to maintain his job, it was never enforced, or even brought up.

Actually, everyone who had survived Meteor and the Bahaumet summon in the city had to receive therapy in order to maintain their jobs.

This measure had only been implemented after a small group of people formed a vigilante party to stamp out anyone tainted by Mako, or who had worked at Shinra.

Eighteen people had died, and a handful more hospitalized before the police had correlated the link between the attacks.

All of the attackers had survived the summoning, but their families hadn't been that fortunate.

That's where his new job fit in. Reeve gave him information, rumors, about uprisings and he went in to ascertain the situation and deal with it in any way necessary to maintain order.

Send the monster to find monsters, if you will.

It was fitting in it's own twisted logic.

The strange self depreciating thoughts continued to assail the dark haired man as he stood under the hot, pounding spray of his massaging showerhead. Neither factor doing anything about the tension straining in his upper back and shoulders.

Angry fists slammed into the tile. The ceramic giving way to powder under the heavy pressure of the metal prosthetic that was his left hand.

A low keening wail issued from deep in his chest.

'I should be dead.' Vincent mourned within his mind. 'I should be rotting along with everyone else, along with her…'

Silent tears tracked down his cheeks to blend with the rest of the water.

Jerking the shower knobs to turn the spray off, he reached out with his flesh hand and grabbed a towel from the nearby rack and dried off. Using a dry end he wrung out his long black hair before dropping the cloth to the floor. He'd pick up after himself later, when he cared. For now, Vincent grabbed a pair of black pants from the bin of clean clothes and turned off the bathroom light. Slowly, the dark haired man padded through the hallways of the house to the kitchen, the passageways still unfamiliar to him. On his way passed the living room he passed a wall calendar with the day marked with a red "X".

He caught the bright color out of the corner of his eye, but walked passed it briskly, he couldn't look at it outright and it's morbid reminder of the anniversary.

Though it isn't everyday you could celebrate the anniversary of your own death.


	3. Cat Got Your Tongue?

Chapter 3: Cat Got Your Tongue?

Reeve Tuesti sat behind his dark oak desk and heaved a sigh of frustration.

Of course he knew that it was far easier to tear down than to rebuild, but almost a year after the summoning incident saw Midgar nowhere near where it should be, and legal company funds were starting to run short.

A knock on his office door interrupted him, causing him to lose his place in the long list of figures he was adding up.

"Enter." He called out, dropping the papers he was holding.

The heavy wooden door opened to reveal his secretary, one in the laundry list of ladies he'd gone through in four months. He wasn't a picky person, but he did feel that it was far easier to file by alphabet and not by what fruit the color coded file tabs reminded the person of. As such, he hadn't even bothered to learn the poor woman's name yet. Though he swore if she lasted through the week he would.

"Mr. Tuesti, sorry to disturb you, but I was informed that Mr. Valentine has failed to report for work this morning."

The bearded executive looked at his red headed aid with a rather poleaxed expression.

"Failed to report?" He asked lamely.

"That's correct sir."

"But he's always here."

Reeve couldn't believe it. Vincent not coming to work was like Reno giving up booze, it simply wasn't heard of.

"Um, thanks for letting me know. I'll look into it."

When the secretary closed the door behind her, Reeve rummaged through is coat pockets for his PHS and automatically dialed Tifa at 7th Heaven.

Vincent himself didn't have a PHS, and Tifa lived closest to the gunner's new house.

The phone was answered before the first ring had ended.

"He's here."

"Eh? Who's where, Tifa?" Reeve hadn't been prepared for her to answer the phone so quickly, so his brain was behind in responding.

"Vincent." The lilting voice on the other end replied. "He's sitting in my bar getting shitfaced."

The bewilderment that came through the tone of her voice was enough to give the older man pause.

"Ah, eh, did he say why?"

"No."

"Did he say anything?" His mind scrambling to come up with a quick solution, Reeve's fingers flew over the keyboard, firing off an e-mail to his aid stating that he would be indisposed until further notice.

"No greeting or anything. He just sank into a chair, demanded a bottle of scotch, and is now staring off at a wall."

"How long ago did he get there?"

"About a half hour now. And Reeve, almost half the bottle is gone."

The click of glasses in the background told him that Tifa was trying to be inconspicuous about observing their comrade.

Standing up to grab his long coat from the back of his chair, the executive shrugged into it and strode through his office.

"If the traffic holds I can be there in ten minutes. Don't let him move." Reeve finished before hanging up, slamming the door of his office behind him and making a mad dash down the hall.

The keys to his car jingled in his pocket as he raced down the stairs, elevators taking far too long for any trip.

From what Reeve knew of the man, Vincent had never been one to drink, even under the direst of circumstances. And given that it was only eleven thirty in the morning, made him feel like he'd stepped into Bizzaro World.

As he neared his old Shinra issue black sedan, Reeve key coded the auto start feature and slid into the bucket seat. He took a moment to buckle himself in before squealing out of the parking garage.

Yes the fate of many lives lay on the papers on his desk, but that could wait a few hours. Right now there was nothing more important than his closest friend.


	4. Crawling Through Broken Glass

Author's Note- I'd like to thank those of you that have taken the time to review this story, especially since it is my first in this field. Good reviews encourage me to write faster so you don't get bored waiting for the next chapter. Also, most of the chapter titles from now on are going to be Linkin Park songs. If you listen to the songs they sort of fit what's going on. Plus I think Vincent would actually listen to them.

This chapter is edited and reposted. Special thanks go to DnD for pointing out that some things didn't flow right in this chapter. So I redid it. Thanks DnD!

Chapter 4 – Crawling Through Broken Glass

While Reeve was speeding through Edge like a madman, Tifa slipped her PHS back into her apron pocket, her eyes not leaving the slightly hunched drunk man.

Even though he sat in a darkened corner of the bar, his bright crimson cape stood out like a beacon. For a man who liked to hide, the cape didn't help camouflage anything.

Shaking her head with a sigh, the brown haired kickboxer went around the main floor, taking the chairs off the tables before unlocking the front door in preparation for the lunch crowd. She also kept an eye on the steadily declining level of scotch in the bottle. She'd never seen Vincent drunk, and therefore had no way to gauge his actions or reactions. As much as she cared for the man, she'd be seriously pissed off if he trashed her bar.

Vincent however was nowhere near drunk. Buzzed was only slightly closer to the truth.

The Mako, JENOVA cells, and various other sadistic treatments Hojo had subjected him to made all chemical substances burn through his system like wildfire.

Actually everything burned through his system quickly. Especially food. The treatments had put his body into a state of hyper metabolism, and as a result he was forced to carry portable ration packets with him at all times in order to function. Which was why he always maintained an almost gaunt appearance.

His weekly grocery bill now generally ran about fifteen hundred gill, a sum that sickened him, as well as the delivery boy who brought it to his doorstep.

He was only slightly glad that when Hojo had finished playing God with him that he'd been put into stasis sleep, or his body would have starved itself within a week.

He could never eat out at a restaurant either. It just wasn't the fact that people would stare at how much he ate, but he couldn't trust anyone enough to prepare his food. Many of Hojo's experiments had come as additives to his meals, which resulted in his supreme paranoia about others handling his food.

Even when he'd come to 7th Heaven and Tifa handed him a glass with his ordered scotch, he wiped the rim carefully on his cape.

A force of habit for when forced to eat in strange places, but most definitely an insult to one of the few people who he actually did trust. One of the very few who might actually give a damn about him.

Ruby eyes gazed over the rim of the glass and drank in Tifa's profile. He'd never really lumped the girl in with his general assertion that the members of AVALANCHE were self-centered idiots. She, other than Reeve, had been the only person in the group that really tried to make him feel welcome. Though her childish dependence on her love for a man who'd strung her along bothered him. It had reminded himself all too painfully of his younger self. She'd quietly grown on him as time, and the quest progressed.

They'd all spent nearly a year together on the initial quest to defeat Sephiroth, and as such he had had quite a lot of time to do nothing but observe the others, and slowly remember humanity.

Tifa had made easier to remember that humanity. Her unwavering smiles and boundless optimism, even to his own morbid situation, had worn him down enough to carry on a civil conversation with her over a shared meal that she'd prepared. With him watching her do so of course.

He'd trusted her more than anyone of the team members that had found him. He hadn't wanted to do so at first. He'd wanted to hate her, wanted to blame her for everything. For the stares from the normal people in towns, for the warding signs from the superstitious, but mostly convincing him to leave the coffin of nightmares and step into that light. She hadn't given up on him, even when he was at his most anti-social and reclusive. Especially when he'd stare her down purposefully to make her uncomfortable and squirmy.

His paranoia's and phobias, which Tifa passed off as just things that he did, in his eyes were insults to the trust that he had placed with her. It made him curse Hojo even more for making him like this.

He wasn't in the mood for civil conversation with anyone, something he knew Tifa wanted. Right now he only hoped he could pour enough liquor into his system to override his metabolic state and become blinding, stinking drunk enough to forget the day.

He doubted he'd be allowed to though. One, the metabolism was too strong, and two, his boss. Oh, the little bartender had tried to be ticksey about talking in hushed whispers with Reeve, but his hearing was so sensitive he still heard her conversation from across the room.

Knowing the way Reeve drove, he should reach the bar in a few minutes, and that was such a shame. He'd finally decided, on the walk to work, that he didn't give a damn and wasn't going to go into the office. He didn't want to deal in the business of death and intrigue anymore.

All he wanted to do was finish atoning for his sins, which he'd also decided this morning, would end after he went back to Lucrecia's cave to say his final goodbyes, and then he'd fade back into the background.

He'd briefly toyed with the idea of suicide, but he wasn't quite sure he was allowed to die, and if he did succeed, would the demons within him die as well, or would they be loosed on an unsuspecting populous. His need for eternal peace wasn't worth the risk to the innocent people around, or to Tifa.

Ah, whom was he kidding, suicide was a coward's way out, and he was no coward. Back in the day he'd killed people for even insinuating cowardice.

Those thoughts unfortunately brought his mind back to the reason he was here, in Tifa's bar, getting shitfaced.

He needed more liquor in his bloodstream.

As he was pouring a hefty amount of the amber liquid from the bottle into the glass, Reeve slammed open the front door and stood there for a moment, panting.

Tifa looked up from writing the today's specials on the ad board, and cocked an eyebrow at the man in the doorway. He looked like he'd run a few blocks at full speed. His hair was windblown and disheveled, his face ruddy with exertion, and his breath wheezed painfully from his lungs. He basically looked like shit.

"You know Reeve, there are parking spaces in front of the bar." Brown eyes sparkled in semi amusement.

"Yeah, and Reno's boat in occupying three of those spaces." The flushed man replied as he came into the bar, shutting the door behind him.

"I told him not to park the boat there." Tifa had a sinking feeling that she was going to be kicking Reno's ass before the day was through.

"The boat", as those that knew Reno well affectionately referred to it as, was actually an energy guzzling, broken down, rusting battleship of a car that dated to the days before ShinRa Company was a major power. Oh, it'd had an overhaul after the internal combustion engine became outlawed, but whatever junk heap Reno had had it pulled out of had not been kind to it. It leaked, clanked, and rumbled liked a monolith on a Sunday stroll. You heard, and felt it, miles before you saw it.

It was Reno's pride and joy. It was also his house of the moment.

Tifa didn't mind that he parked near the building, preferably on the side where it couldn't be seen by the general populous. It made it easier to get him home when he was stumbling drunk, but parking his homeless ass in front of the building, taking up three spaces, was where she drew the line.

"I'll take care of him when he comes in."

Reno was a regular at the bar. So regular you could tell time by him. He came in at noon exactly for lunch and left at two. Then dragged himself in again at five and stayed until close. Unfortunately, by the time close came Tifa had to either drag, coerce, or beat him to get him to leave.

He

The brown haired man acknowledged that he'd be down one less body at the office once Tifa was through with the red head, and walked over to the only other person in the bar.

Pulling out the opposite chair, the executive fell into the cushioned seat with a plop.

"This celebration of yours had better be worth nearly running over several pedestrians, and running four blocks at full speed to get here."

Tifa wandered by their table with a clean glass and another bottle of scotch. She could tell this was going to be one hell of a male bonding session.

Reeve nodded his thanks in her general direction before reaching for the opened bottle and poured two fingers worth into the tumbler.

Vincent raised his deep scarlet eyes from the table to look Reeve straight on. His mother had always brought him up to make eye contact with the person you were speaking with. Her belief in common courtesy was astounding in a world that didn't give a shit. He'd done it to please her though, with the added bonus that his naturally red eyes scared the begeezus out of the person they were directed at.

"It was a party of one, I assure you. Your presence is not necessary, and most definitely not wanted." Vincent countered with a tone that all but had icicles dripping from it.

"Tch, when has that ever stopped me." Reeve saluted Vincent with the tumbler and tossed the scotch back, letting the fiery burn spread its pleasant warmth throughout his body, calming frazzled nerves. The eye contact didn't bother him in the least though. He'd worked for ShinRa for more years than he could care to remember, nothing bothered him anymore. "I'm your friend Vincent, not just your boss. Yes, as an employer I'm concerned about why you didn't show up for work, but as a friend I'm damn worried about you. For as long as I've known you, and the crazy things we've done and been put through, you've never been a drinker. Let alone to do so at the crack of early. Now here you are, it's only been an hour since you got here, the scotch is almost gone and your mood is icy at best. Talk to me Vincent."

"I'll write my formal resignation tonight and have it on your desk in the morning, but for now it will suffice to tell you that I quit." Black gloved fingers poured the remainder of the scotch into his tumbler and pushed the empty bottle towards the edge of the table. He eyed the cup for a moment before downing the entirety in several swallows.

"You can't do that Vincent. I won't let you."

Vincent's face twisted in a snarl of rage as the arm holding the tumbler hurled it with inhuman force into the closest wall.

"God damn you!" He screamed. "You won't let me? Who gave you dominion over my life?"

Reeve didn't even have time to let the shock register before movements like lightning had his collar in a cloth tearing grip, lifting him out of his chair to bring him eye to eye, nose to nose, breath to breath with a very enraged man. The stink of the scotch on Vincent's breath stung his nostrils unpleasantly as he attempted to breathe normally around the chokehold his shirt and jacket had become.

"Listen well to the words I speak. You don't know me. You don't own me. You can't control me, and I'll kill you if you try. I'm done with these lies. I'm done with your games, and if I choose to leave you can't stop me."

The words were surprisingly calm considering the violence that had only just been displayed.

"Vincent, stop it!" Tifa yelled as she darted across the barroom to their table.

"I will pay you for the glass that I broke, but I'm telling you to stay out of this."

Tifa approached the table closer to Vincent's side, but stayed two feet away. It was as close as she dared at the moment. She could still attempt to save Reeve if it became necessary, or restrain Vincent if she could.

"I can't do that Vincent. I care too much about you as a friend to see you do this to someone else I care about."

"Friend? Is that what you all are? You sycophantic flotsams are not my friends. My friends are all dead. Everyone I knew is dead now. Hojo and ShinRa took care of that." Anger pumped adrenaline through Vincent's veins at such a rate that it wouldn't take much more for one of the demons to force their way out. He had to calm down; he knew that, but damned if his brain cared right now.

They were trying to cage him. Trying to steal his life, his choice, again. Hojo and Lucrecia. No! Reeve and Tifa. No one would control his life anymore! He wouldn't let them.

All he wanted was to be alone today. Why couldn't they understand that? He wasn't one of them. Talking about it wasn't going to make him feel better. It wasn't going to help them understand the scars on his soul that still bled fresh.

His control was slipping rapidly. He had to leave, leave now.

Sweat beaded up on his brow and his breathing began to become erratic.

The familiar feeling of a transformation sang through his body. The painful pulses of the summoning ripping through his bones, making him feel sluggish.

Vincent's vision began to fade at the edges. He was going to kill them; he knew it with certainty. There wasn't enough time now to get out before he lost complete control.

He couldn't remember letting Reeve go, and yet there he stood next to Tifa, terror etched in his care worn features. Vincent's body felt stiff and cold as his consciousness faded. He wasn't going to remain in control of his body for much longer, and there was nothing he could do.

The darkness crept in steadily before stealing his vision. His last sight was that of his only friends as they braced for death. His breath rushed raggedly in gasps, not enough air to say anything, to beg forgiveness for the sins he was about to commit, only a gurgle escaped his parted lips.

The last thing he felt was his body falling to the floor in convulsions as he fought the change. Tried desperately keep whichever demon within.

It was a loosing effort. The demon was too close to surfacing to be called back, and consciousness faded into black oblivion.

'Forgive me!' His mind screamed.

Then he ceased to exist.


	5. Nobody Listens to the Silences

**Author's notes:** I went through the last chapter to see why everyone was talking about a stray letter, and poof there it was. I reviewed it against the original text and nothing is missing, but I can't figure out where that letter came from. I even re-uploaded the chapter to see if it changed it, but it didn't. Must be a weird FFN thing. Anyway, thanks to everyone that has reviewed this. The chapters are going to be a bit slow in coming as I haven't quite finished tweaking the plot, and RL is a pain. Hope you enjoy this latest installment. As always, please review.

Chapter 5: Nobody Listens to the Silences

Hellfire blazed through his closed eyelids and every minute muscle twitch, even involuntary, caused spasms of agony to wash through his body.

Tifa must have given him one hell of a work over before Chaos claimed her.

How many more sins would stain his tattered soul, how many years of atonement would it take to wash off the blood of his only friends in the day and age. He doubted that the planet would cycle long enough for him to find out.

It wasn't that Vincent was immortal, his father's research on Mako exposure and prolonging life had influenced one of his young assistants, James Hojo, who years later would use that research to it's fullest.

Countless bouts of Mako poisoning later, the former Turk stood ageless, and would remain so for what would seem like an eternity.

Vincent wondered briefly what had happened to his father in the thirty odd years he'd been asleep.

Hopefully he had never gotten a chance to try his own theory on himself. The last thing he'd want would to do was encounter his father.

His thoughts about possibly seeming father again were interrupted by a small argument that was gaining volume not to far away.

"Just how high did you have that thing turned up? He's been twitching for ten minutes."

"Not high enough to kill him, yo. If he's still twitching he's still alive. Quit'cher bitchin'."

That Midgarian slum drawl was poking at him with familiarity, but big fluffy sheep were crowding Vincent's brain, and he couldn't quite figure out whom it belonged to.

"Reno!"

Ah, there was the connection. But why would a pyramid hurt so much? Granted the change from human to beast and back again always caused discomfort, it had never felt like the Temple of the Ancients had landed on him before.

"Did you remember that his arm is a mythril plated prosthetic, or that he wears armor?"

"So he can't pass through a metal detector at Junon airport, what's that got to do with the price of whiskey in Wutai?"

"Metal conducts electricity. You could have cooked him."

The argument progressed as Vincent's sheep laden brain began to clear. He made a mental note to introduce Reno to the business end of his own EMR. See how he liked it then. For now he'd just listen to what was going on around him while he waited for his nerves to stop screaming.

"Like I said, quit bitchin', yo. I came in for lunch and see him about to turn scary. Now I got two options, yo. One, I hit him with enough juice to knock him out before he finishes changing. Or two, drop a pyramid on his ass and pray.

"Now you know, like I do, that droppin' a pyramid on his ass is only gonna hold off the scary for maybe seven minutes tops, and we run for high ground cause there is no way we're gonna win. If we run though, we're only gonna get a few blocks in "the boat", but in the meantime there's a whole lot 'a innocent people he can play with, yo.

"So I picked option one and juiced him. Argue with me all you want about it, but I figured saving all our asses was worth it. Gods damn I need a drink."

A clink of glass on wood was heard only moments later.

"Thanks, yo."

"Why are you all shaky?" Tifa asked as she poured a healthy shot of the red head's favorite single malt into the tumbler.

"I just juiced my superior in the back of the neck, yo. He saved my partner and boss, saved my ass, and the planet too. He scares the mother lovin' shit outta me, but I respect him, yo. When he gets up he's gonna gut me an use my entrails for guitar strings." The shaking of Reno's hand grew steadily worse as he thought about the painful death that awaited him.

"As…graphic as that image was, I doubt Vincent would actually do it," a deeper, masculine voce spoke up softly had to be Reeve, Vincent mused silently, "and what was that about a superior?"

"He's a Turk. Only way you leave Turks is in a bag. Before he went MIA, Valentine was second in command, an until Rufus gives the word otherwise he's got my seniority than me." Reno explained, 0pouring more amber goodness into the glass.

The three coherent people in the bar continued discussing the odd hierarchal tree that made up ShinRa employees, completely oblivious to the fact that the person they were discussing was attempting to regain motor skills.

The nerve receptors in Vincent's prosthetic arm had taken quite a zap and only worked to a certain extent, thus when he thought he was only flexing his fingers, he was really shredding the floor.

"What was that noise?" Drink in one hand, EMR in the other, the slightly paranoid Turk turned toward the noise with all haste.

Tifa, knowing nothing could have gotten into her bar, rushed back to the prone man on the floor.

"Vincent, thank gods."

Said man could only wince, as the longhaired woman's voice seemed piercingly loud in his sensitive ears.

Reno and Reeve were slightly more reluctant to leave the safety of the bar, even though it was mere feet away from the fallen man.

"You're his boss, right?" Reno whined at the executive. "You can make him not kill me, right?"

"He doesn't listen to me Reno. Not that I'm not grateful for the save today, but I can't help you out if Vincent decides to play Turk Hunt with you." Reeve explained, downing a fortifying glass of vodka from the bar.

The plaintive whine he received in response was more suited to a child on the verge of a tantrum, than a full-grown man, and Turk at that.

"But you're his friend."

"What happened to your nerves of steel Reno?"

"More like buns of steel boss man, but unless he's into skinny ass white boys, they won't help me. I'm gonna die, yo!"

The whining continued for far longer than inhumanly tolerable, and Vincent wished he had enough coordination to make him stop. At the moment though he could still only move his fingers and toes.

Knowing Reno, as Vincent did, he knew that the badass talker kept the EMR set at just under enough juice to nuke a cow's brain. Add the metal arm and the fact that he had been in the middle of a change, it was lucky that he had even survived.

He wondered momentarily if this was how stroke victims felt.

Too bad the jolt hadn't killed him though. It would have saved so much time and agony in the long run.

Would have been bad for Reno though. The rest of the AVALANCHE members would have hounded him, if only to thank him for doing it. There'd be no peace for him, they'd show up out of nowhere unexpectedly, especially Yuffie, and annoy the bejeezus out of him.

Tifa and Reeve would have torn the Turk a new one, maybe.

It wasn't like Reno would feel any guilt about it. He'd dropped the plate on thousands of people, yet he got on with his life, and even made nice nice with the people who had given they're all to kill him.

Did that make Reno a masochist, or just stupid?

Did that make them all masochists for being friendly with him?

How in the three hells did he get on this line of thought? And why was he starting to feel giddy? Probably just adrenaline.

Slowly, Vincent pried his eyelids open and made them focus. Only to blink in a startled manner as he realized just how damn close Tifa was leaning toward him.

So close he could see the individual flecks of red violet that made her brown eyes appear rich claret. So close he could smell the delicate flowery sent of her bath soap. So close her breath washed over the skin of his face.

She had never been more beautiful to him than at that moment.

"Ti…fa." Her name rasped through parched throat, even as he forced his gloved human hand up towards the curve of her cheek.

He felt sick to his stomach with the movement, but he couldn't stop himself now that he'd started the motion.

Noticing Vincent's half clenched hand having trouble rising, Tifa grasped the strong hand in both of hers and brought it to her chest.

"Don't force it Vincent. I'll take care of you until you feel better." Speaking softly, the woman pushed stray strands of hair away from his face, caressing him in a covert manner.

What she really wanted to do was move closer and rain kisses over his face and weep out her thanks that he was still alive. Seeing as he only viewed her as a friend, or maybe only a comrade in arms made her choice for her. At least he was allowing her to hold part of him close.

Next to her, Vincent was moving slowly in an attempt to rise, if only a little. He could blame it on sheep, or fuzzy whatever's. Hell he could blame it on Reno, but right then, with Tifa so close, he wanted to kiss her.

Just a soft press of her warm, full lips against his. Just once.

"Ti…fa."

Thinking he was trying to tell her something, Tifa leaned even closer to Vincent, even as he strained to rise a few meager inches.

So close yet so far.

"Tifa…I…"

The sudden slamming of the door startled them both, making Tifa pull away from him. His only opportunity lost; perhaps it was for the best.

"Tifa, I'm home. Can we talk?"

Blinking in bewilderment, Tifa stared at the last person she thought she'd see.

"Cloud?"


	6. And The World Came Tumbling Down

**Author's Notes – **Sorry this has taken so long to update, but real life has sucked up a good portion of my time. Plus I was trying to get at least 2 chapters written before I posted this, but it didn't turn out that way, and then I ended up rewriting this chapter. Meh, that's the way it goes sometimes. Thank you to everyone that's reviewed so far, I really appreciate it. After I get the next chapter out I'm going to go back and do a bit of editing on the previous chapters. So chapters may be a bit late in the posting. I'm not sure I'm completely satisfied with this chapter, but then again I'm never satisfied with my writing, but I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 6: And The World Came Tumbling Down

It had only been four months since he'd left.

One hundred and twenty two days since he'd packed his meager belongings into the storage compartments on the Fenrir, and taken off to do some serious soul searching.

It couldn't be helped really. After consigning the ghost of Sephiroth back to memory, and holding his "brother" in his arms as he faded into the Lifestream, it was the straw that broke the camel's back, and he'd needed a break from everything and everyone.

His first stop had been the City of Ancients. To give one last farewell to the woman he could have been loved most by, had he really been Zack.

He'd had to come to terms with the fact that Aeris only loved Zack, a fact that had been painfully driven home when her spirit left the church with the black haired warrior.

Even still, he'd had strong feelings for her. Feelings that had to be sorted out and dealt with before he could go back to his new life.

In all honesty though, it hadn't taken Cloud all that long to realize that the woman he'd wanted to be with was in fact Tifa.

The revelation had been handed to him when he'd gone to the second time abandoned Niebleheim, to reconcile the last of his ghosts.

Even years later, the once peaceful village was still teeming with the restless souls of the massacre victims. Cloud had hoped that by walking through the center square they would have gained a measure of peace by his presence alone. Knowing that their deaths had been avenged.

However, it also gave him a lot of time to think about his past in this sleepy town, and how he'd almost lost Tifa before he even knew it.

What if she'd died that night at the reactor? What if she'd never been there to pull him out of the Lifestream?

Would he have survived? Would any of them?

Unlikely.

Tifa was the mortar that held them together, while the others were the bricks. You could build an existence with bricks alone, but you can't build a life without the glue.

He wanted Tifa to be the glue that made his life complete.

Oddly enough, the thoughts had come to him just outside the city, in front of the gates of the old ShinRa mansion.

Nothing good had come out of that building, and it was time to ring the final knell in the dirge of the Sephiroth saga.

When he got back to Midgar, after he went to Tifa and made her his, he'd go to Rufus and discuss his plan. Then it would finally be over.

Or so he had thought.

The tearful reunion that he had imagined faded into the mist, as reality punched him in the nuts.

Cloud's mind went numb, and he swore his heart clenched and refused to beat for a small eternity, but might have only been seconds.

It was inconceivable! He'd been waiting thousands of miles, to come home to this?

Vincent Valentine lay on the floor in an uncomfortable looking crumple, his human hand clutched to the overabundant chest of one Tifa Lockheart. Tifa, who was crouched over him, a hairsbreadth away from the man's face was oblivious until he spoke.

"Tifa, I'm home. Can we talk?"

The words came out before he'd really decided he wanted to say them. Almost as if the impulse of perceived happiness overrode the reality of the witnessed betrayal.

Claret colored eyes blinked the fog of the moment away before focusing on him in the doorway.

"Cloud?"

Never voiced, but he could still hear the 'What are you doing here?' that Tifa tactfully left out.

How could she have chosen "that" over him? How dare she? What happened to the unwavering loyalty she swore to give him?

Lies! All the promises, all the speeches. Pretty words and nothing more.

So he wasn't eloquent, or handsome, or even mysterious, like Vincent. At least he was human, unlike that damned man.

"How could you do this to me? To us?" He demanded.

"Do what to you?" Tifa was immediately on the defensive. "There was never an us, Cloud. You made your intentions clear when you called me Aeris that night before you disappeared.

"That was a mistake, I realize that…"

The bar owner was on her feet and stalking over to him a heartbeat before he could finish his sentence. A heartbeat before he could do anything more than pray she didn't tear him a new one.

Grabbing his arm with more force than necessary, the brunette dragged him through the main room and upstairs to the Strife Delivery Office.

With the door closed it was near impossible to hear what was going on inside. It wasn't the first time he'd been dragged up there to be yelled at after all.

He studied the girl turned woman through lowered lashes, as she took a deep calming breath. As she settled into a relaxed stance, as she reigned in her temper.

"Before you say another word, or hurl another accusation at me, Cloud, I want you to know that I'm glad you're home again."

"I was glad to be home, Tifa, until I walked in the door." He retorted.

"What changed that?"

"I came home prepared to tell you how sorry I was for accidentally calling you Aeris, the up and leaving you."

"No amount of apology will fix that Cloud." Tifa interjected, leaning a hip against the desk.

"I can understand that, really I can, but I came home to tell you how much I need and want you in my life. How I can't live without you, and I want you in my life. How I can't life without you, and I find you together with Vincent." He paced as he talked. This wasn't how he'd planned to tell her, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

"What's wrong with Vincent?"

Amazement shot through him as his head snapped towards her.

"What isn't wrong with him? He's a walking disaster. A living symbol of how ShinRa fucked the world."

"What exactly does that make you?"

"Low blow, Tifa."

"Truth. You just don't want to see it that way. I'm just tired of pulling the punches so I don't hurt your feelings." The martial artist said wearily. "You can't go off and call someone a monster when you yourself could be viewed the same way.

Just because Vincent got caught up in some things that got out of control, and a psychotic scientist with a god complex did terrible things to him. That in no way makes him a monster."

"You like him." He accused, the scorn evident in his voice.

"I've always liked him."

He would not tolerate it. He would not be rejected in favor of that patchwork monstrosity. Tifa's proclamation sealed the deal on what his next move was going to be.

"Is that so?" He asked as he went to the door and opened it. "That'll change soon enough."

"What are you…" He closed the door before she could finish, a plan already formulating in his mind. He just needed Rufus and the Turks to agree.

He would put Vincent Valentine in his place, or back in his coffin, then there would be nothing standing between him and the woman he wanted.


	7. Somebody Help Me Breathe

**Author's Notes**: Sorry about the huge delay in this story, but I had a lot of personal issues in RL that demanded attention, including a breakup, and being scheduled almost 60 hours every week.

**Author's Notes 2**: 1/16/07- Just did a bit of editing; chapters 8 and 9 will be coming shortly

I do know where this story is going, and have it plotted out, it's just a manner of writing it out while keeping Vincent in character as much as possible but allowing for change.

For those that think he's way OOC, I can only say that the way the FFVII storyline is written, it's not readily apparent how he would react to situations outside of battles and missions. Not to mention his mind is not exactly the most coherent of places to be.

Hopefully you won't think I've messed him up too bad.

Chapter 7: Somebody Help Me Breathe

Vincent watched as his last hope of a happy future stormed away from him.

'I've lost…again.'

Regardless of the mood Tifa was currently in, now that Cloud had returned to her life, she would forever remain just out of Vincent's reach.

Only yawning emptiness and sorrow seemed to await him, and the mere thought was enough to make him queasy, and the minimal support his prosthetic arm had given earlier went out as the nerve receptors decided to quit, rendering the metal arm all but useless.

As he fell back to the hardwood floor, his head hit with a thunk that made the other two occupants of the room wince.

Their reaction, the loss of his arm, and the pain his head should have felt was drown out by the numbing cold that seemed to spread from his heart and radiate outwards.

He should have known better than to allow the fantasy of Tifa, as a permanent fixture in his life, to take hold.

A scarred man could never be what she would want. Though he wasn't wanted when he had been whole either.

There must be something about him that others could see, some flaw they used to judge him unworthy of their love.

Gathering the remains of his dignity, and wrapping it around himself like his cloak, he heaved himself off the floor and onto his feet. The dizziness and gut wrenching nausea that accompanied the move almost sent him back down, and forced him to close his eyes and wait for the world to stop swaying.

When he reopened them, Reeve was barely a foot away; a worried frown etched into already careworn features.

The fact that he hadn't heard his friend approach would have been more worrisome if the sound of his blood rushing through his cranium wasn't the only thing he could hear.

"Vincent…Vincent!"

When the rushing noise faded enough to allow the words to be heard, he acknowledged his boss in his usual monotone voice.

"What is it?"

"What's wrong? You've never been this out of it, even after the battle with Sephiroth. Did you eat breakfast?"

He made a noncommittal noise in response. Food had been the last thing on his mind before he'd left the house on his way to work.

Actually, he'd made a conscious decision not to eat, in hopes that it would help the alcohol through his system that much faster. To help him forget that much faster.

Just how did Reno function like this?

Upon further reflection however, it was a good thing that he hadn't eaten, as he might have reintroduced in onto Tifa's person after his initial bought of sickness.

The downside of it though was the disorientation and discomfort he was experiencing right now.

"I'm guessing by the lack of response that it would be a no. Vincent, you can't do that to yourself and you know it." Reeve continued as he eyed the dark man.

"Not that his anorexic ass can afford to skip a meal, but why's it a crime if he does, bossman?" Reno asked as he snuck up on the two.

The bearded man gave his younger employee a scathing look that promised retribution for the interruption, then pointed ignored him.

"You not payin' him enough? He needs like an extra meal or three. Get him some lunch. While you're at it, get me some too." The red haired Turk was seriously trying to fenangle a meal out of Reeve, and Vincent would have laughed, had it been another time and place.

"Come on, I'll take you back to your place and I'll fix something lite."

"No." The rejection was immediate and unequivocal.

"You have to eat, Vincent." The amber-eyed executive cajoled, placing his hand on one scarlet clad shoulder. "I'm not the greatest cook in the world, but I'm also not the worst."

"No, and let go of me." While he didn't quite have the strength, or the second arm to enforce Reeve leaving him alone, he put just enough menace into his voice to make the man halt any further action.

Removing his hand, Reeve eyed his friend warily, as one would a mountain cat pawing through the garbage can in your backyard.

"You have to learn to trust people again, Vincent. You can't live like this."

"Why? So they can shove the knife in that much deeper? Thank you, I've had enough of that to last several lifetimes."

"Even the Turks trust other people."

"Only trust other Turks, yo. Don't trust friends, never trust a significant other, and absolutely never trust a bartender." Reno supplied, EMR propped on one shoulder, just in case.

"Thank you, Oh Great Sage, but unless you have something useful, or relevant to say, I'd suggest staying quiet." Reeve glowered.

"Just stating a well known fact."

One other well known fact was, about Reno, was that he could never let anyone have the last word in a dispute. It would have seriously been making the talons of the claw twitch in annoyance, had it been functional at the moment.

"Never trust another Turk, and always be suspicious of everyone." The he shot back. It was a lesson he'd learned at the hands of the then leader of the Turks, Veld.

"Man, you really are old. Veld stopped using that crap once General Sephiroth showed him he wasn't the big bad anymore. The only ones we can trust are our fellow Turks.

Something about the flippant response from the younger man rubbed Vincent the wrong way, and before he consciously thought about it, he was aiming his good hand to wrap around Reno's throat.

Reeve's quick actions caught the hand at the wrist and held it in a vice like grip, pulling it away from the now paler Turk.

"As much as I'd love to let you do it, Tifa wouldn't appreciate clearing out the mess."

A valid point, which brought his mind back to the matter of leaving the 7th Heaven, and possibly Midgar altogether.

The tall brunette tugged gently on the arm in his grip and made motions towards the exit.

"Come on, I'll drive you home."

The door from the backroom of the bar slamming into the wall startled everyone, causing the three men to turn towards the possible threat.

Cloud strode through the main room with barely contained rage, shouldering past the caped man with an animalistic snarl.

"Enjoy it while you can, Valentine."

"What do you mean, Cloud?" Reeve demanded.

Throwing a look towards Reeve, before turning his attention back to Vincent, the blonde put on the most hate filled look his boyish face could muster, and opened the door.

"The beast knows exactly what I mean."

"No Cloud, I don't," Vincent stated, "and where are you going? You only just came back."

"Your days are numbered, remember that." Cloud shot back, closing the door behind his exit.

"What was that about?" Reeve asked of his crimson-eyed companion, confusion etching itself into a "huh?" on his face.

Vincent gave no reply, continuing to stare at the closed door. His mind whirred with questions he had no answers for.

"Chaffing. His pants must have been chaffing. Right in the crotch."

Reeve turned to face his subordinate with brows furrowed and mouth open to say something in response, but realized he was at a loss how to respond to that retarded statement. Choosing instead to close his mouth and shake his head in disbelief.

If Reno wasn't such a good fuck, he didn't know just what he would do with the idiot.

"Idiot."

"Yeah bossman, but I'm all yours."


	8. Diary of a Madman

**Authors Notes-** Thanks for being so patient with my lack of updates. RL has not been kind. Chapter 9 will be out shortly, it's currently going through an overhaul.

Chapter 8: Diary of a Madman

**Excerpts from the journal of Dr. James Hojo, date unknown.**

…I hadn't even planned on using him, but my darling Lucrecia convinced me otherwise.

Imagine my surprise when she suggested we use him as the Chaos genome recipient. He who is the son of my first mentor.

Or perhaps that is the exact reason why she chose him, considering how much she knew about his family.

Speaking of his family, I need to find out the rest of the work Grimore did on him. There have been some interesting reactions that I have not gotten out of the other test subjects.

This brings up the interesting question of whether or not my favorite experiment realizes that his father had been feeding him Mako in disguise of vitamins.

Have to laugh at that. Everyone thinks I started it all, had to get my idea from somewhere, you know?

According to the one of many incomplete copies of the file Lucrecia spirited away from Grimoire, Vincent always had superior reflexes and coordination, but when Mako was applied it served to enhance his innate capabilities. Unfortunately, not long after that, Valentine the younger went off to a ShinRa run boarding school and no further records on him can be found until he joined the ranks of Turks.

What rankles me is that Grimoire's experiments indicate that minute amounts of Mako somehow begin to re-encode RNA and DNA sequences, to heighten senses, change organ structure, as well as bone density. But when you change the dose by even a milligram, it causes erratic changes within the cellular structure and the subject begins to take on grotesque characteristics. Horns, claws, and other animalistic attributes are not uncommon.

The exact dosing remains a mystery to me, as that file was destroyed, along with others when the Valentine house went up in flames. Lucrecia's overzealousness continues to be my bane. Ah well, I suppose I will just have to apply more work to him and see what I get.

Which brings me back to my current project, getting Mako changed DNA to accept another sequence, without killing the subject. In this instance, Valentine.

The Chaos genome was only theory and speculation until a few years ago.

Lucrecia's theory is that the planet supplies both its savior, and its destroyer. Omega, the ultimate weapon must be elimited in order for the planet to continue. How do you destroy a creature created by the cosmos itself? Damned if I know, I'm just a geneticist…

…I came back from his cell an hour ago with a fresh blood sample. The last one I took a few days ago was tainted by an infection.

I must remind that damned woman to stop putting microbial agents in his food while I am attempting to splice. The fever and spiked white blood cell count are completely throwing my work off course…

…I am beginning to think that perhaps I should not have let his body die that first time. While I managed to keep his brain alive after the initial execution, I was not so generous with his body.

After his revival, his organs and tissues remained in a state of shock, which I am finding out now is detrimental to both of our researches.

While she continues to test his responses to various environmental and man made agents, it plays havoc with his reactions to other tests.

The rate of cellular regeneration is sluggish, the immune system response is almost nil, and I've had to leave him on life support for a week now. I decided to induce a stasis sleep tonight, if only so he doesn't shock out while I amputate his arm.

Damn thing went gangrenous last night and it's started to spread to the good tissues. I'm going to have to cut it off at the bicep.

Oh well, it'll give me time to spend with my wife. Her third trimester has begun, and the child has begun to protest the daily Mako treatments.

As noted in his file, his progress within the womb is nothing short of amazing.

My son will be my greatest achievement, not only to my genetic research, but to myself in general.

That is why I must not fail in this Chaos genome project, because Valentine will be my son's instrument to ruling the world.

It's only a matter of time, time that she will grant me…

**Entry end. Nothing further can be deciphered to due damage.**


End file.
